In the strength of a mighty glee.

And the warning roar of a fearful blow

Is heard on the distant hill; And the Norther, see! on the mounIn his breath how the old trees writhe tain peak

and shriek!

He shouts on the plain, ho ho ho ho He drives from his nostrils the blinding snow,

And growls with a savage will.

Such a night as this to be found abroad,

all day

As it never came down before; And over the hills, at sunset, lay Some two or three feet, or more; The fence was lost, and the wall of stone;

The windows blocked and the wellcurbs gone;

The haystack had grown to a mountain lift,

And the wood-pile looked like a monster drift,

As it lay by the farmer's door.

The night sets in on a world of snow, While th air grows sharp and chill,

the road,

With the snow in his shaggy hair. He shuts his eyes to the wind and growls;

He lifts his head, and moans and howls; [sleet, Then crouching low, from the cutting His nose is pressed on his quivering feet

Pray what does the dog do there?

A farmer came from the village plain,
But he lost the travelled way;
And for hours he trod with might
and main

A path for his horse and sleigh;

And wags his tail when the rude winds flap

The skirt of the buffalo over his lap,

And whines that he takes no heed.

The wind goes down and the storm is o'er

'Tis the hour of midnight past; The old trees writhe and bend no more In the whirl of the rushing blast. The silent moon with her peaceful light

Looks down on the hills with snow all white,

And the giant shadow of Camel's
Hump,
[stump,
The blasted pine and the ghostly
Afar on the plain are cast.

But cold and dead by the hidden log
Are they who came from the town:
The man in his sleigh, and his faith-
ful dog,

And his beautiful Morgan brown,

the rein,

To rouse up his dying steed; And the poor dog howls to the blast in vain

For help in his master's need. For awhile he strives with a wistful cry

To catch a glance from his drowsy eye,

O MAY I JOIN THE CHOIR
INVISIBLE.

O MAY I join the choir invisible
Of these immortal dead who live
again

In minds made better by their presence; live

In pulses stirred to generosity,

In deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn Of miserable aims that end with self,

In thoughts sublime that pierce the night like stars,

And with their mild persistence urge men's minds

To vaster issues.

So to live is heaven: To make undying music in the world, Breathing a beauteous order, that controls

With growing sway the growing life of man.

So we inherit that sweet purity For which we struggled, failed and agonized

With widening retrospect that bred despair.

Run out to welcome me,She mewing, with her tail on end, While wagging his comes he. They listen for my homeward steps, My smothered sob they hear, When down my heart sinks, deathly down,

Because my home is near.

Why come they not? They do not

come

My breaking heart to meet!
A heavier darkness on me falls,--
I cannot lift my feet.

Oh, yes, they come!-they never fail
To listen for my sighs;

My poor heart brightens when it

meets

The sunshine of their eyes. Again they come to meet me,- God! Wilt thou the thought forgive? If 'twere not for my dog and cat, I think I could not live.

This heart is like a churchyard stone;
My playful cat and honest dog
My home is comfort's grave;

Are all the friends I have; And yet my house is filled with friends,-

But foes they seem, and are. What makes them hostile? IGNO

RANCE;

Then let me not despair.

come,

May God the thought forgive!

If 'twere not for my dog and cat,

I think I could not live.

I'd rather be a happy bird,

Than, scorned and loathed, a king; But man should live while for him lives

The meanest loving thing. Thou busy bee! how canst thou choose So far and wide to roam ? O blessed bee! thy glad wings say Thou hast a happy home! But I, when I come home,- O God! Wilt thou the thought forgive? If 'twere not for my dog and cat, I think I could not live.

May God the thought forgive If 'twere not for my dog and cat I think I could not live.